In Our Married Life
by kwritten
Summary: Ginny and Harry's life post-war... a series of one-shots. NOTE May or may not add to this Universe later, leaving in-progress to allow for more, but may not : ... I tend to stay in my own head-canon most of the time
1. Burnt Christmas Pie

Prompt from my lil'sis  
Ginny/Hermione: PostDH, has to include pumpkin pie, barrettes, and a photo album  
Rating: G  
Word Count: 3430

The pumpkin pie was burnt. For the third time.

Ginny slumped to the ground and fought back the urge to use her wand to … to…. Well, the thought didn't really get past pulling out her wand and getting something accomplished. She hugged her knees as close as she could get them to her chest and sighed, it was partially her fault anyway. She had been the face behind Hermione and Harry's campaign to educate the Wizarding world in Muggle culture, and encouraging more parents to allow their children to attend Muggle schools before they were called to study Wizardry. Ginny had spent the better part of the last six months posing for promotional posters, depicting her using a cell phone, taking the bus, shopping in a supermarket, and baking in a traditional Muggle kitchen. She was the perfect poster-child for their campaign, just as she had been the beloved face of the Holyhead Harpies for the four years following the war. Her career had been a golden whirlwind that took the Wizarding imagination by storm – but Ginny quickly grew tired of the constant movement and crowds. There had been no break between the end of the war and her short-lived career. She had been the female rookie of the decade. She had hated it.

No one had seemed to figure out that hours of posing as a modern witch, capable of traversing the Muggle world, did not mean that Ginny had actually learned anything.

She looked to her right and was met with the disapproving face of old Kreacher, "Who decided to have a magic-free day on Christmas Eve?"

Kreacher glared at her, "You did." He was sullen. The whole Weasley clan had opted to come to Grimmauld Place that holiday season. Molly Weasley's death earlier that year, followed so closely by her third grandchild, and her namesake, had left the clan searching for anything to fill the gap that the matriarch had left behind. Pregnancy seemed to be the most popular reaction. Angelina, Hermione, Ginny, and Fleur all announced pregnancies within the last five months. Ginny found it a little perverse, and extremely sad that every Weasley child had sought the arms of their lovers in the wake of Molly's death, rather than bear the loneliness of the Burrow and their father's empty, sad eyes. In addition to the Weasley clan, Harry and Ron had taken it upon themselves to invite Luna and her new husband, and Neville to the festivities.

Kreacher was very displeased. He was not a fan of large amounts of people tromping all around the house. He was even less of a fan of children. Victoire and Teddy ran screaming and laughing up and down the stairs while Dominique toddled after them, knocking over everything in her path as she used anything and everything to prop her chubby legs upright, and little Molly, though a perfectly pleasant baby, was George's child after all and was as rambunctious as a girl twice her age. Generally Teddy was a quiet, solitary young boy. After moving in with Ginny and Harry only a short year ago, the eight year old was definitely a child born of the war, and had given Kreacher very little cause for alarm… until Dominique had come tearing through the front door, teaching the poor young boy all sorts of "bad habits" and delightful games.

Ginny moaned. "I didn't know everyone was going to come here today of all days!" The plan had been simple: orchestrate a monthly day in which Wizarding families gave up magic and tried to live as ordinary Muggles. When Hermione had suggested Christmas Eve, everyone had thought it would be such a lark. In fact, Ginny could hear her brothers galloping around somewhere upstairs, playing Muggle charades and various board games Hermione had brought over from her parent's house. It was all fun and games for them, but somehow Ginny had been placed in charge of feeding everyone. Non-magic days included giving house elves a day off. Even free elves.

Kreacher was just as sullen about the whole thing as she. He made a perfect pumpkin pie. And here he was, stuck with his thumbs up his arse, while his mistress suffered. Because Ginny, in just three short years since she had left the locker room and sought refuge in the old house's dark corridors, had found her way inexorably into Kreacher's heart. She was more his mistress now than the now-gone screaming portrait ever was. As much as he swore up and down that he hated children, the crotchety old elf looked upon Ginny's growing stomach with burgeoning pride. He waited on Ginny hand and foot, scolding her for attempting the smallest tasks. Even when she sat down to knit him a Christmas cap and socks, he was filled with such shame over the whole affair, she actually felt sorry for him and gave the set to Winky instead, who cried over the set so much Ginny finally threw up her hands and swore she was never going to give any of her house elves gifts again. Their looks of obvious disdain at this remark made her laugh, and she still didn't quite know what to make of the strange pair who were so much a part of the house's background.

"Aren't you a delightful pair?"

Ginny looked up and saw first Hermione's protruding stomach, and then her smiling face, framed by wild curls. Hermione was the first Weasley to become pregnant that year, actually shortly before Molly died, but she and Ron had curtailed their announcement until after a short mourning period had passed. Consequently, though Ginny looked only a little paunchy around her middle, Hermione looked fit to burst at any moment.

"Aren't you?" Ginny arched as she hoisted herself off the ground and plopped the burned pie on the large kitchen table.

Kreacher hung to Ginny's skirt and glared up at Hermione, "My mistress shouldn't be in the kitchen when in this condition!" He paused and then said respectfully, "Neither should you, ma'am."

Hermione broke into a bright laugh. "It does seem silly, doesn't it? A house full of pregnant women on holiday and that's when the men decide we don't need our magic?" She flicked her wand out from beneath a bulky sleeve and waived it over the blackened pie, turning it just the right shade of orange and giving Kreacher a wicked smile.

Ginny plopped down in a nearby chair and laughed until her sides felt they would split. Within seconds, Hermione was chuckling along, her large belly bouncing and rolling with mirth.

"Ow! Oh..." Hermione grasped her stomach and sunk into a chair near Ginny. "This one kicks like a jackrabbit," she grimaced. Ginny placed a protective arm over her own midsection and smiled, she was only three months along and as yet felt very little connection to the creature within her. She envied her sisters-in-law. All of them glowing with maternal pleasure and hope, their bellies all curving out dramatically while hers still hid from sight. The Weasley women, all sharing pregnancy stories and laughing with Fleur and Audrey over the babies already in the world, seemed like foreign creatures to her. Ginny had actually been a little relieved to hide herself in the kitchen, hide herself from the excessive female bonding that she felt so awkward around. Even Luna seemed perfectly at home trading old-wives secrets with the young mothers and putting her small, white hands on each stomach before predicting the eye color and gender of each bulbous orb that filled the room with promise.

Ginny smiled over at the woman, her sister, her best friend, "She just wants to be included."

Hermione arched her eyebrow, "She?"

Ginny blushed. Ron and Harry were both bouncily expecting boys to come shooting out of their wives in the following year. Boys that would be best friends the way they were best friends. Sometimes Harry slipped into a stasis not unlike what Hermione had told her about Sirius. His childhood had been stolen away from him … from all of them and it only felt right that their children would have the opportunity to be children. But Ginny knew... she knew the way she sensed Teddy no matter where he was in the house. Harry teased that she was a natural mother, but it made her uncomfortable and nervous to be so hyper aware of the presence and moods of other children, while the one inside stayed so distant from her.

At that moment Ginny felt a pull on her heart. Like that split-second moment right before you stub your toe and your body instinctively anticipates the oncoming pain, causing an almost lightheaded feeling. And then above their heads came a muffled cry. Ginny shot straight out of her chair and was halfway to the door when Teddy, tears streaming down his cheeks, barreled into her. She grasped him to her, trying to make sure that neither fell over from their collision. Teddy looked up at her, today his eyes were a bright velvet and his hair was long and red, an obvious mimicry of her own. Twisted all throughout his long hair were multi-colored, plastic, glittery barrettes... an obvious sign of Dominique's handiwork. He didn't say anything, just snuffled and nuzzled his face into her waist.

Peeking around the corner of the door was a very sheepish looking Harry. "Everything handled, hun?" he queried softly.

Ginny set her hands on Teddy's shoulders and held him out from her, bending at the waist to look into his eyes. At her serious gaze, the boy started giggling. Ginny put her finger to her lips and winked at him before pulling him back into her embrace. "Teddy can stay down here with us for a while, 'till he calms down." Harry leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, before turning to fly back to the sounds of raucous laughter coming from above. "But -" Ginny stopped him. "Dominique is hiding in Sirius' closet because she doesn't want to get in trouble." The silence hung thick around her as Harry and Hermione stared at her in disbelief. Ginny cleared her throat, "I mean, you know - probably. That's her favorite hiding spot and..." Her voice trailed off and she shrugged her shoulders. When Harry continued to star at her with a puzzled expression, her jaw set into a hard line and she turned away from him.

After leading Teddy to a shorter table, intended for the children, Ginny sat him on a bench and plopped down a large slice of pie overflowing with fresh whipped cream on its oily, orange surface. Kreacher bustled around her, setting out a cup of hot tea for her and a large glass of frothy milk for the child. Ginny assumed that he also pressed a cup of something into Hermione's hands, because she could hear a slight murmur of protest behind her. However, she stayed focused on the soothing task of untangling the two or three dozen barrettes stashed clumsily in Teddy's long locks.

Before she had made significant headway, Teddy was nearly done with his pie and his mood was significantly lighter, his long legs swung rhythmically below him. Ginny smiled down at him, "Can you tell me what happened, buddy?"

Behind her Hermione whispered, "Don't you know?"

Ginny turned to the woman staring wide eyed at her and nodded with a slight shrug. "It helps to work out the problem if he can tell me. Teddy isn't very verbal for his age-group, according to the Muggles at his school, and we've been trying to encourage him to talk more, especially about things that upset him. We don't want everything bottling up, do we buddy?"

Teddy turned to Hermione, "Unc' Harry says if you love someone, you have to tell them. But you also have to tell someone if you're sad." He frowned at her, whip cream staining his top lip, "Don't you tell people why you're sad ever, Auntie Miney?"

Hermione smiled at the young boy's valiant attempt to correctly pronounce her name. "Only if I don't think it will hurt their feelings, too."

The two women exchanged a long look and Ginny felt a strong chill. They had stayed better than sisters, closer than any friends could be... but most of their relationship relied on Ginny ignoring … or forgiving (she was never clear where the line was between each was) a bond that would not break, a closeness that she could not grasp on to, between the two people she cared about most. It became exhausting, having a marriage with three people rather than two. The only consolation she had, became more of a burden every year; her brother's sunken eyes and forced laughter when they were two, rather than four, hurt her more than the others' absence. She knew, of course, that their bond was one more of pain than any other emotion. But as she gazed across the room at Hermione, Ginny let go - for possibly the first time since... - all of the pain that she felt.

The war didn't exist only for the two of you.

I know.

The exchange was never spoken aloud. They had made the exchange hundreds of times. And each time Ginny felt a tiny bit of the pain multiply. Neither was completely fair to the other, really. And they both knew it. But they were nothing if not stubborn, all four of them. What was unsaid meant far more to that small unit than anything spoken aloud by anyone over the years. And that... was Ginny's life as far as she could see it.

Teddy's frown deepened, sensing that something was happening over his head, "Auntie! Don't you wanna know what made me sad, anyway?"

Ginny turned back to the jumble of barrettes while Hermione moved her chair closer.

"So," Teddy said quite solemnly. "I wanted to play war."

"War?" Hermione queried, a slight bite in her tone.

The small boy nodded very seriously, "War. And I was going to play Unc' Harry, like I always do." His face at that moment morphed into a perfect replica of Harry's, complete with a tiny, lighting-shaped scar. Hermione let out a gasp. Teddy looked up at Ginny, "You always let me be Harry." She nodded down at him in assent.

It was true, the small boy relished re-enacting scenes from the last war, the Hogwarts battle, the trio's camping escapades, Hermione's release of the dragon, Harry's rebirth... the whole tale was like the greatest fairy tale the young boy had ever, or would ever come across. Nightly he badgered Ginny and Harry for details, not just about his parents, but about every character in what he found to be the greatest epic ever told. Ginny and Teddy had contracted Kreacher and Winky to play every character Teddy's imagination could place them as. Even Harry would occasionally participate, in between rushing through the house on his way from one meeting to the next, though Teddy rarely allowed Harry to play … Harry, preferring to take the hero's role on himself.

Teddy swallowed a large bite of pie and said after a large swallow, "First she wanted to play my parents. She said it would be romantic to die." The little boy shook his head in disgust, the female mind obviously a place he dared not even comprehend. "But I wanted her to be you. I'm going to marry Dom, just like Unc' Harry married you. And we'll live happily ever after, just like you. But she didn't want to play you, she said you weren't brave, not like mommy, or Auntie Miney. So..." he trailed off and looked up sheepishly.

Hermione's face was burning beet red out of embarrassment, but Ginny stayed focused on Teddy. "What happened next?"

"We-eell," Teddy hid his head in Ginny's lap and burst out the end of the last story as if it were all one word, "." He drew in a long, deep breath.

Ginny pulled him up out of her lap and made him face her, "Teddy. Being a girl is okay."

"I kno-ow."

"Playing Bellatrix is okay, too. I've played Voldemort before, right?"

"Right."

"Does that mean that I'm evil?"

"No."

"Does it mean I'm weird, because I'm playing a boy?"

"No-o." Teddy laughed. "You're being weird now."

Ginny tickled his stomach, "At least I'm not always weird, like some people I know." Teddy collapsed to the ground in giggles as Ginny continued to tickle him. When she stood up, she saw Hermione looking at her with an odd expression. "What?" she asked awkwardly.

"If I'm half the mother you are-" her voice broke and she ducked her head.

Teddy sprang to his feet and hugged Hermione, lowering his head to whisper, "I think you're SUPER brave, Auntie Miney." Hermione burst into laughter. Teddy backed away and brought an imaginary sword swinging down to the ground, "But when Unc' Neville chopped off the snake's head! Wow! I wish I could have seen that!"

"Want to know a secret, big buddy," Ginny said, dropping to her knees.

"Is it a BIG secret?" the boy said with large eyes.

"Maybe," Ginny said coyly. "In war, everyone is brave and everyone is scared. Even the bad guys."

Teddy paused and looked at her suspiciously, "You think Draco was brave?"

Ginny nodded solemnly, "I do. Because you know what? He walked away. And sometimes walking away from the wrong side, is the bravest thing you can do."

Hermione spoke up, "Do you want to see something, Teddy?" He looked sideways at her. Hermione pulled a large scrapbook out of her bag. "I brought this to show the adults, but I think you can have a sneak peek if you want?"

The three of them crouched over the small child-sized table as Teddy turned the pages of the photo-album. The first page featured the large group shot of the original Order of the Phoenix. It was frightening, looking down at the first generation plagued by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Most of them were younger than Ginny was now. The opposite page featured Dumbledore's Army. There they all were, the two generations of an army much too young.

Ginny stood up and walked a few paces away, brushing tears off her cheeks. Hermione waddled over to join her and laughed, "Hormones!"

Ginny tried to smile, but almost broke down with the effort. "Every day," she whispered. "Every day he wants to play war. Every day I see my friends die and bleeding and crying." She grabbed at her stomach, "We were too young. We were all too young - every one of us. Each generation he hurt and tortured... no one is ever old enough for war."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny and sighed, "Oh sweetie, that's not hormones." Ginny laughed. It was hollow and harsh.

And then Teddy was tugging at her arm, "Auntie look!" He tugged them both to the table and pointed at a picture of laughing teens. "Can I have a copy for my room?"

Ginny had completely forgotten about the photo. It was taken just as they had exited their NEWTS. Ginny was tripping over her robes, while Luna and Hermione tried to stop her from falling. All three were laughing and tripping over each other. Beside them, Harry had his arms around Ron and Neville, all of whom looked over at the laughing girls, amused. Over and over again Ginny watched herself fall and her two friends pick her up again and again. She leaned into Hermione's embrace and laid her head on her friend's shoulder.

Yes. They had been too young for war. And there was no guarantee that their children wouldn't go through the same trauma... or something worse. But those teens in the photo, they still held each other up. They hadn't been beaten. And even though the pain kept coming, they were still learning new things about themselves and each other and the pain every day.

Teddy would be ready. She'd make sure of it.

Their parents had let them live in fear, but Teddy faced the prospect of war and death with grim determinism. Together, they'd train their children to survive... not bruised and battered the way they had - laughing only in those rare moments when silent tears didn't take over - but with all the knowledge of their parents, and their parent's parents.


	2. The Magic of Words

**Title:** The Magic of Words  
**Fandom:** _Harry Potter_  
**Characters/Pairings:** Ginny/Harry  
**Rating:** PG  
**Prompt: **Harry Potter, in his "do muggle work campaign" makes Ginny go food shopping in a market OR Ginny and Harry's first post war vacation (I did both)  
**Disclaimer:** I claim nothing, Rowling is the Master  
**Author Notes:** A prequel to Burnt Christmas Pie, another Ginny piece. My Freddy-friend prompted me at work, so this was written in under four hours

Ginny looked down at the bright yellow box clutched in her gloved hand and tried to ignore the curious stares she was getting from her fellow shoppers. Most believed her old-fashioned clothing to be an eccentricity that could be attributed to extreme wealth, those that didn't presumed she was the young mistress to an older and much wealthier man. All were wary and distrustful of her presence, her accent and regal bearing separating her intrinsically from the local populace of the small seaside community in the Pacific Northwest. It may have made her feel a little more at ease if she could have only guessed at the fanciful stories the Muggles around her told themselves about her personage.

She sighed down at the box and thought longingly of the cellphone in her pocket, but knew that Kreacher would only beg her to come home, or allow him to come to her and assist in person, and her mother was basically inept at Muggle technology… and Hermione would scold her for not being more comfortable in a Muggle grocery.

_In the baking aisle, be sure to look at the back of the box for the added ingredients before leaving the store, so that you don't forget anything._

Her own words – or rather, Hermione's scripted words – from her most recent radio spot echoed in her mind and she turned the box over to look at the directions. Her eyes swam at the pictorial instructions for measuring, stirring, pouring… she thrust the box back on the shelf and walked determinedly to the next aisle, ignoring the tears threatening to build up behind her cool facade.

The next aisle was a disaster. Within seconds, Ginny was longing for the safety of brightly colored cake mix boxes, with their cheerful mascots and logos. She stared blankly at the bottles, bags, and boxes with foreign print on them. "Ethnic Foods" aisle?

"Excuse me?" Ginny looked down and saw an elderly woman, possibly of Hispanic decent, looking at her with a concerned expression. "Child, are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Ginny laughed, "I'm just a little lost." Her accent rang in her own ears, jarring amidst the sounds of the shoppers around her.

The old woman nodded knowingly, "Are you here on vacation?"

Ginny blinked, "Ye-es… Well, I mean, we were _supposed _to be on holiday, my husband and I, but then…" she shrugged. In the woman's nut-brown eyes there was a flash of understanding and Ginny blushed from embarrassment.

It was nice, for once, to not have to explain: _Why yes, this is my first time to America. Thank you, I am enjoying my time here greatly. Yes, my husband has been awfully busy with work since we arrived, but it is _so_ great to have some time to myself._ The whole conversation made her feel nauseous. She had been so looking forward to the trip, the two never having had a proper wedding trip because of the speed of their engagement, the public appearances that were demanded of both of them, and the onslaught of publicity over his new projects. It was the perfect destination, rather than the tropical beaches that seemed to always call to her brothers, Ginny had been looking forward to camping, fishing, kayaking, and exploring the cold coast of a foreign country that would still feel as homey as possible. But within moments of landing (Harry had insisted on Muggle-travel, which had made her queasy), they had been greeted with demands from the American Wizarding community on Harry's time. And Ginny had nearly lost her holiday since.

Still, she was embarrassed that the old woman had pegged her and her husband's story so quickly – how cliché her life had become: the beautiful young wife to the hero, the workaholic. Was she so easy to read? Had she really lost so much of herself to his career and goals, so early?

The woman snatched the shopping list Harry had written up that morning out of her hand and wiggled her eyebrows at her, "I think we can get this settled in no time." And so Ginny spent her morning breathlessly keeping up with the woman as she breezed down aisle after aisle with a clarity of vision and single-mindedness that reminded Ginny of Hermione. Some of the items Harry had put on the list were replaced by Lavinia for higher quality items. Ginny added to the basket a bottle of white wine and a tub of chocolate ice cream for herself.

After paying at the cashier (only possible with Lavinia's assistance), Ginny turned to her and shyly asked, "Please, let me buy you a cup of coffee?" Lavinia tried to shake her head, but Ginny took the woman's hands in her own. "Please. It's the least I can do. Besides," she added with a smile, "back home we don't have coffee shops like you have here. I've never stopped in a café for a drink – all we have are pubs." Lavinia shook her head at the sheer barbarism of the British Empire, before directing Ginny to a small café tucked between what appeared to be a hardware store and a bookstore on the main street of town.

Ensconced in small armchairs, with their groceries scattered all about, Ginny learned all the amazing details of Lavinia's life. Her immigration to the States from Cuba as a teen with her young husband, their struggles to protect their many children from heartache, how proud she was of her grandchildren for attending university, the death of her husband, and all the intimate stories in-between. Sitting there, in her first coffee shop, in her first real conversation with a Muggle, Ginny began to realize the scope of the world outside the very small community that she had grown up in. Her cup of tea grew cold, forgotten on the table between them, as she ate up the stories Lavinia shared of a world and reality so far away from her own. There was magic in her story, in her ability to share so much emotion through the mere act of speaking words.

That morning Ginny felt, for the first time, that she understood Harry's campaign to teach the Wizarding world about Muggles. Harry and Hermione were just far too logical, far too level-headed, far too practical, and far too close to subject to know how much more easily their plan could be accomplished. She thought back to Muggle Studies at Hogwarts and realized how much was lacking from her education – not just names of cities and dates of wars – but the _human_ connection that Lavinia was able to provide her, just for the price of a cup of coffee.

When she unlocked the door of the small rental home they were staying in, Ginny's senses were assaulted with the overwhelming scent of lilies. The room was filled, every available space showered with every type of lily the world over. The shades were drawn and candlelight flooded the room. She shut the door quietly behind her.

"Ginny?" Harry burst in from the kitchen, his eyes filled with worry, a crease appearing between his eyebrows at the sight of her. "I expected you back hours ago. Is everything alright?" He grabbed her to him and buried his face in her hair, his breath ragged and uneven.

"I'm fine," she laughed. "I stopped for a cup of tea." She held up the groceries to him and he kissed her cheek softly as he took them from her. "I didn't think you'd be here… that you'd be busy…" Her protestations seemed pointless now, looking about the room at his handiwork. She punched him in the arm as he walked back to the kitchen with the bags, "I thought you had to work?" She heard him chuckle as he shifted items around in the back of the house. She heard the distinctive sound of glasses clinking together and shifted her weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. "Harry? Do you need help?"

"Don't move!" he shouted, carrying out a tray with chilled champagne, glasses, and fresh strawberries. After momentarily setting the tray on the low coffee table in the center of the room, he was at her side and had gathered her up in his arms, off her feet like a small child. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder, relaxing into his embrace.

He set her softly on the loveseat and whispered, "Today was supposed to make up for–" but she wouldn't let him finish, she pulled him down beside her and kissed him deeply. That afternoon, they made up for the weeks of long work nights, for the hurried dinners between tasks, for the awkward silences and uncomfortable want that seemed lately to so fully define their time together, for the rushed, grappling moments in the middle of the night.

The next morning, Ginny sunk into a chair next to Harry at the kitchen table and stole a piece of his toast, swinging her bare legs onto his lap. He looked at her with a shy smile and then nodded at the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. There she was, talking animatedly to Lavinia in the coffee shop. Apparently reporters didn't believe in allowing the Potters to take a holiday.

"I wanted to talk to you about this yesterday but… you were a little distracting," Ginny said between bites of toast.

Harry shrugged, "Hermione wants to pop in today, discuss whether we need to make a statement or do damage control… something about –"

Ginny placed a finger on his lips to quiet him. "What if I had a better idea?" she smiled.


End file.
